The Moon May Rule the Night
by Pleurez Mes Yeux
Summary: Atem struggles with anxiety upon ascending to the throne. He finds help from an unlikely source. Rated for language.


**So, yeah... I know I'm super late on updating Regression. So, here's a one-shot to make up for it while I try to get the next chapter in order? ^^;**

**Actually, that's not the reason for this one-shot. Atoms so strong, and I find myself fascinated by the notion that there's anxiety and insecurity buried underneath all that confidence. After all, with a lot of people struggling with anxiety, you'd never know it just by looking at them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic.**

**`Pleurez**

He was on the floor. The leader all of Egypt looked to for guidance. The master of the gods. The infuriatingly arrogant rival Seth so loved putting in his place. In that moment, the priest's understanding of the world balanced precariously on a precipice.

Just as he moved to back away, crimson eyes snapped up and he heard a soft gasp of, "Seth."

"Are you ill?" His tone was guarded. It seemed unlikely—the pharaoh had seemed perfectly fine all day. But he could imagine no other explanation for the frenzied brightness of the ruler's eyes or the harsh, ragged rise and fall of his chest.

"I thought I was alone."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Are you ill," he repeated, this time more firmly.

Something flashed in the pharaoh's eyes. He snatched for the first thing he could grab—a pillow—and flung it. "Get out," he hissed, hands beginning to shake as the pillow hit the wall inches from where Seth stood.

"Get out!" His voice rose in pitch as Seth moved towards him with long, determined strides. He knew he could only keep himself from falling apart for so long. But the ruler was meant to be strong…. The idea of anyone, even a trusted advisor, seeing him in such a state only deepened his panic.

And then in an instant, it broke. His throat constricted, tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he struggled for breath. Tremors wracked his frame and he wrapped his arms around himself as if hoping he could physically hold himself together.

Blue eyes widening in alarm, Seth crouched beside his king. "Come. You should see a heal—"

"_No!_" He moved to shove Seth away.

The priest found himself surprised by the strength of the smaller man's arms. All the same, his own never faltered as they took hold of his king. He said sharply, "Look at me."

Even had he been of a mind to listen to the priest's demand, he was too far gone to process it. When he had exhausted all efforts to force Seth away, he collapsed against him, heaving a harsh, shuddering sob.

Seth wanted to shake him. He wanted to pound sense into that spikey-haired head of his. But despite his impatience, he was sensible enough to know that that would likely not be the best approach. He sighed, turning his eyes skyward.

The pharaoh was clearly doing this just to spite him. What other explanation could there have possibly been for him, out of everyone else in the palace, to be saddled with this?

"Breath idiot," he huffed, voice tinged with a certain resignation as he offered a silent prayer for his own sanity.

"C-can't," the pharaoh wheezed.

For a time, an uneasy silence hung between them. However, slowly, the tightness of the pharaoh's throat began to fade and the adrenaline left his system, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Scarlet eyes dark with shame, he rasped, "L-leave."

"No."

"That was not a request." His tone was more subdued than it ought to have been.

"You act as if I care."

The pharaoh's harsh bark of laughter startled him. The king drew back and, amidst a cynical laughter that bordered on hysteria, declared, "A pharaoh who can't even control his priests. Egypt is well and truly fucked!"

Seth's jaw tightened. Any remnants of his understanding of the world shattered.

"Father…. Father should still be on the throne," he breathed.

That was what this fit was about? Where had that damnable ego of his gone? Over the last week, the people had spoken of nothing but how well Atem had taken to the throne. He had been born to rule.

"Everyone in the palace has said—"

"Yes," he mused sardonically. "That is rather the point, is it not?" He had to put on a show. Before his people, he had to be strong. Calm. They had to see that the death of the former pharaoh was not cause for alarm. If they knew how unfit he was… If he let them see that alone in his chambers, he descended into fits of terror? The country would fall into chaos. "They know only what I allow them to see."

There was an accusation there, but Seth chose to ignore it.

"You are ready." It was a rare moment of unabashed honesty, stripped bare of its usual sarcasm. The only reason Seth challenged the pharaoh the way he did was because he recognized in Atem a worthy opponent.

It was met with a self-deprecating scoff.

"Atem." That caught the ruler's attention—it was all too rare that Seth called him by name. "You are rash, stubborn, and quite often an idiot. But you are also tenacious, bold, and—when you take the time to think—a sound strategist. The people look to you, and you _will_ lead them. You _are_ ready."

"Leave."

"Walk with me."

"Leave."

"The air will do you good." He met Atem's eyes. "It is my duty to advise you, but you have to let me."

They settled into an uneasy truce as Seth shepherded him out the door. They wandered aimlessly, with neither destination nor purpose. For a time, silence reigned.

Finally, the priest pointed to the sky. "For a week, you have sat on Egypt's throne, and yet no great calamity has come. The moon still rises each night, and the sun will do likewise at dawn. Provided you rise to meet whatever challenges may come, life will go on."

"I am just one man, and the burden of the crown is heavy."

Blue eyes remained fixed on the sky. "The moon may rule the night, my pharaoh, but it has the stars to help it light the sky."

"But—"

"For the gods' sakes! Have you learned nothing from your damnable Kuriboh?"

Atem's lips twitched into his trademark smirk. "So you can be taught…"

"The question is, can you?"

He laughed. But this time, it was a far cry from his previous, hysterical outburst.

"You have my word that I will not allow you fail. And you should know better than to doubt my word."

There was a dry chuckle. "Well, judging from your track record in your competitions…"

"Idiot."


End file.
